


Jack's illness

by Hyfriancarousel



Category: Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Beds, Flowers, Illnesses, M/M, Protectiveness, Sad, Search for a Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyfriancarousel/pseuds/Hyfriancarousel
Summary: A sad fate awaits those uncured.
Relationships: Hans/Jack
Kudos: 6





	Jack's illness

Only magic was powerful enough to rid Jack of this curse.

Dressed in white, in ruffles of sparkling fabric. His crown, Hollow with only the form of an actual tiara, filled with flowers. Not placed there as decoration, but growing from Jack himself. Vines of thorns so thin, they were closer to string than plants. Stuck to him.  
Lying on a canopy bed, a coffin, as this resting place may be final. His body tired from the movement he no longer did.

Hans stood next to him in this room of white walls, close together to make it appear small. He held a curtain of something see-through. A silver fabric that, from behind, could only form a silhouette. Contrasting it in black, he looked both out of place yet fitting. A suit meant for mourning.

Watching Jack breath slow, slower than one should, in a state of exhaustion that one might mistake for eternal sleep.

He stepped forward, letting the curtain drop behind him. He kneeled at the side of the bed and kissed the back of Jack’s hand. A quick gesture, brushing his lips against the other’s skin. Jack’s face turned, glimmering tears in his eyes. Moving was hard, and his tears couldn’t fall. No speaking was possible anymore.

Pastel pink petals fell from his mouth.

Hans looked up at him, unsure of what to say. In silence. Still, his eyes were full of fire. Not of anger, but determination.

“You can sleep now,” He said. A whisper. A plea. His eyes, though full of hope, were sad. As if a sea of honey had boiled over.

“I promise I’ll find Merlin. I promise.” He squeezed Jack’s hand. “He can help you.”

This illness, this ailment, had made him so weak. He couldn’t grab on Hans’s hand. Left staring, to look at something passing by. But even then, only when he was awake. 

Hans swallowed, moving his gaze to Jack’s arm.

“He’ll cure you.”

Jack’s head turned away, allowing him to stare at the ceiling. His eyes closed, releasing the tears held on for long. One last petal fell before Hans’s hand let him go.

Not dead yet. But soon.

Hans stood up, moving the white, see-through fabric to leave the bed. He didn’t look back. If he did, he would keep staying near Jack, never-leaving his side. But he couldn’t do that anymore. 

His cooking couldn’t cure him. His prayers and pleas couldn’t cure him. Those sleepless nights spent worrying and weeping couldn’t cure him.

He had to find Merlin.


End file.
